jo naukari dila de B A banane wale
ha naukari dila de B A banane wale
bigadi hui bna de naukari dilaane wale
bigadi hui bna de naukari dilaane wale
milti nahi hai service ha bekaar phir rahe hai
milti nahi hai service haan bekaar phir rahe hai
B A kahlaane wale M A kahlaane wale
ha B A kahlaane wale M A kahlaane wale

bhukhe hai bibi bachche tan par nahi hai kapda
bhukhe hai bibi bachche tan par nahi hai kapda
babu bane hue hai colar lagaane wale
babu bane hue hai colar lagaane wale
ha kuch kaam mil to jata
ha kuch kaam mil to jata
kuch kaam mil to jata
kuch kaam ban to jata
majdoor jo bana de gahne banane wale
majdoor jo bana de gahne banane wale
fashion pe marne wale phako se mar rahe hai
fashion pe marne wale phako se mar rahe hai
barbaad ho rahe hai paise uddane wale
jo naukari dila de B A banane wale

The degree's a promise, a gilded cage,
A key to a future, a turning of the page.
It promised a haven, a salaried grace,
But the market is fickle, a desolate space.
The titles we carry, the letters we claim,
BA, MA, echo, a whisper of shame.

Hunger gnaws deep, children's cries ring,
No cloth on their backs, no comfort to bring.
The collar, a symbol, a badge of the meek,
A lord in appearance, but hollow and weak.
If labor would beckon, a trade to embrace,
If hands could be skilled, find purpose and place.

Fashion's allure, a siren's bright call,
As pride and ambition begin to fall.
We chase fleeting trends, in hunger we dwell,
The spendthrifts are broken, the coffers in hell.
The degree's a promise, a gilded cage,
A key to a future, a turning of the page.